Wanderer

I have always been a wanderer.

My brain and legs always seem to have somewhere they want to be and something they want to see. I was hardly ever allowed to do anything as a child so I always took advantage of every single chance I got to step out. My mum would send me to get her water and I would buy it from the farthest place possible so that I could sight see on the way. The only thing that got me out of trouble was my speed. Oh! I was very fast. I would walk from street to street ever so swiftly that she would barely notice my absence. I knew where every shop was and exactly what every shop sold. I knew every body’s names and what schools every child attended. I observed everything and I barely even spoke to anyone.

I had always been so good at absorbing information quickly. I have so much unnecessary bits and pieces of information stored somewhere in my head. We chalked it down to restlessness and childishness when I was younger and it was not until recently when I became diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder that a lot of my childhood began to make sense to me. I was also very forgetful as a child (I still am). I would be sent out to buy three things and remember only two so I would have to go back. Then my mother, would remember something she should have sent me earlier and I would have to go out yet again. Going on errands was my only avenue to leave my house so I never really minded it.

Now, about my brain;…

To be continued.

For myself

This blog was born of failure. I have started several blogs over the years and I failed horribly at them. I’d publish posts for sometime and then disappear like the avatar. I recently realized that the problem was that I cared too much about what people thought. I wanted so badly to be a great writer in the eyes of other people that I stopped writing things I like and started writing things that other people would like. I kept repeating this mistake on every single blog and it just wasn’t me so I failed every single time.

This time around I’ve chosen to release myself from the shackles of external validation. If my writing is not palatable to people then that’s fine. Writing is my therapy. It is my own form of meditation and I have never liked myself more than when I write. I have so many things to write about and even as I type this, a tiny part of me is scared but that’s fine. I’ll use this fear. I will let it push me and guide me. I’ll write some amazing stuff and I’ll also write some stuff that won’t be too great and that’s alright because this time it’s for me. I’m doing this for me.